24: The Objective
by Flamingo Chavez
Summary: A CIA who has been under cover as an al-Qaeda member. Back in Langley, news of the Prsident's death has taken the CTU by suprise. Now they need, James Harding more than ever. But when Hardin is being transported back to DC. His helicopter is bombed...
1. Begin

**24: The Objective**

**Prologue**

James Harding looked up into the dark skies of the Northern frontier of Afghanistan. Harding glanced back at his men, who were Muslim, and members of al Qaeda. Second in command of the team, Joss Khardi had an American mother and an Iranian father. Harding could see the scares on Khardi's jaw-line, from when his father came home drunk and would hit his wife and his son. But one night, he had come home crazier than usual, and to finally defend herself, she picked up a butcher's knife. The drunk didn't like it so much, Khardi hid in his room under the bed. He could her his mother's screams and her final moans before silence over took him. Once the silence streak broke with his father slashing the knife through his door, however that was the end of the story. But Harding could figure it out for himself.  
James Harding glanced back into the stars once last time, sighting the American F-22s doing one last flight routine before they touch down at the Military base in northern Baghdad.

After a few moments James realized that he needed some sleep before they ambush an American convoy, on a nightly route traveling through the streets of Baghdad to avoid any minor or major attacks when the fighters have already touched down. The convoy would take place at 0200 military time. Usually, the typical marine humvee contains six body-armored men holding M16s and flash bang grenades. On top, one man covers the rear, gripping an M2 Browning machine gun. The Captain of E Company, also known as 'Easy' company, would drive the vehicle. Harding had studied the routes carefully.  
Harding had always wondered what the real reason was; President Bush had said to "disarm Iraq of its weapons of mass destruction (WMD), to end Hussein's support for terrorism, to free the Iraqi people", it was BS.

Coalition officials and the US had declared that he was a threat to world peace.  
Once, when Harding was at a bar with his team in Afghanistan had watched on CNN: that award-winning journalist, Ron Suskind, in his book had stated that the White House ordered the Central Intelligence Agency to write a letter, posing as Tahir Jalil Habbush, the head Iraqi intelligence, to the former President of Iraq, Hussein, that Bush was misinformed that Iraq didn't have WMDs. Also the White House had wanted to write a letter that Hussein was buying illegal Yellowcake from western Africa, Niger, accompanied by a team of al Qaeda members.  
James also often heard about the official legality of the war. Hearing about the issue was often irritating.

HARDING awoke two hours before the attack was planned, the team quickly got ready, preparing their AK-47s along with their headwear. After, the team began to smile at themselves, thinking they might over come the convoy.

MEANWHILE, Harding practiced his American accent. He hadn't been back home in six years. He at least had to be able to speak Basic English, but the main word usage he would need is "I'm American…"

**USS BAKER  
16:00 HOURS**

JAMES COLLINS glanced back down at the reflection in the water, deep blue water, grasping him in an ever-lasting hold. Collins took one last drag on his cigarette then he walked back to his quarters. He met with the chief political officer of the ship and had had a couple of beers while they talked about their girls back home. The deputy director of NSA also met with Collins just before the ship headed out.  
The DD, Brian Manning stood watching the ship leave as the officer waved and went out of view. Brian climbed into is Toyota, making it rock wildling due to his weight issue. The Toyota turned around and drove in the opposite direction. Manning listened to the radio, humming a few lines of "rock star".  
After while he turned it off and reached into his glove box to fiddle with a small bottle of aspirin, and found a Pepsi hidden between the seats.

THE COVERT OPERATIVE dashed across the room avoiding the gunfire coming from his primary target. Jason Levy took cover at the target's desks. The target's gun clicked, that was it. Levy's go. He vaulted over the desk and grabbed a ballpoint pen from the desk. Anything could be used as a weapon, his mentor had told him just before his started the program. The target backed away slowly with his hands behind his back. Finally his fell backwards into the back wall. Chris Rayne lounged at the assassin with a Swiss army knife. Rayne pressed the knife into Levy's arm, making him yell in agony. He twisted the knife causing him to become deadly. Jason threw his fist into the target's abdomen, thus releasing the knife pressure. To avoid bleeding all over, he left the knife alone and bent down to pick up his standard issue Beretta with a silencer scrapped onto its edge.  
Suddenly he felt a sharp swift pain rush through his left arm. He looked down at his arm. The knife was gone.

THE ASSASIN woke up to inhale the scent of smoke, sweat, and alcohol. He sat up, his eyesight revealing to him that he was in a bar. Then, a group of Navy men came up to him, "you're awake. We found you on the beach, we were happy to know you were alive. However, we decided not to take you to a hospital, because you had no ID on ya." The group Sergeant said to him.  
"Thanks." He rubbed his neck and stood up.  
"You had a knife in your back, it was quite strange, you have any problem? We could help you."  
"No, my girlfriend thought I was cheating on her," he faked a sore laugh.

**LANGLEY, VIRGINIA  
12:00 HOURS**

Janette Volker stood in front of the highest CIA operations officers, along with countless ministers of defense.  
"James Harding. He was sent to the Northern Frontier in the Middle East six years ago. So far he's helped predict some minor attacks from al Qaeda. He is six feet tall, one hundred and eighty five pounds. He has had some of the best operations training at Andrews air force base in Washington. He's met the POTUS several times before. Including Clinton and Bush when he traveled to the American Embassy there."  
Volker had always wondered why everyone was convinced that they were supposed to refer to the President as POTUS. It didn't make since.  
Director of CI Toby Bennett spoke coldly, and without mercy, "so?" he raised his eye brows, "who cares, he hasn't betrayed us yet, which means he's faithful. There's nothing wrong with that. Is he a threat? No."  
Volker was tired of being pushed around. She had taken a strong blow to the heart, but she didn't give up, "I care. And he may become one, he's been in there so long that he probably doesn't even speak English any more. Six goddamn years, Bennett." He took a few seconds to calm down, to get the adrenaline out of her head. She continued, "what I'm is that we need to get him out of there. And evaluate him."  
The men around the table were convinced. Bennett spoke again for the others, "alright. Jack?" he looked at the other end of the table. Jack Reynolds, a CIA field operative, he looked up from Volker's report, "yes?"  
"When's the next convoy going through Baghdad?"  
"Uh…" He looked at his watch, "twenty minutes."  
"Crap. Get Captain Rowling on the phone."  
Reynolds nodded and did so.  
Captain Rowling was happy to hear his old friend from the Vietnam War.  
"What do 'ya need Bennett?"  
"I need your men to pick up our man."  
"Which one?"  
"His name is James Harding. He may be undercover with a team of enemies. Most likely armed. He will identify his name and status."  
"Alright, but any damage, he aren't paying for it, you guys are."  
"Thanks Captain, I'll put in a good work for you at the Marine board."  
"Bye, Bennett."  
"Bye, Rowling."  
The two both hung up and continued their conferences.

**BAGHDAD  
MILITARY BASE  
23:00 HOURS**

Harding had surrendered in the American way, by simply saying: "American, American!"  
Captain Rowling had met with the field officer just before lunch the next day. The meeting had not been so primitive as Harding thought.  
"Goddamn it! What the **** is wrong with you?" He screamed, making his guard back away a couple of feet.  
"Why the **** did you surrender so ****ing quickly! Huh, you piece of ****."  
Harding had wondered why the Captain had yelled at him so loudly. Maybe he was attempting to let him know who's in charge.  
However, James kept his anger inside…

THE HELICOPTER RIDE was extremely uncomfortable. Harding had been crush between to drill Sergeants. They were extremely fit, with muscles bulging out of their biceps.  
After a few hours, the helicopter landed to fill up on gasoline. The crew and the secret agent stretched their legs. They were still an hour or so out of the country until the Captain would drop him off at the airbase. He would fly in a F-22 along with a pilot from the Navy.  
The Captain and the Spy went over to a bush and started to piss.  
"Look, when I screamed my lungs out, it was meant to intimidate my guards. Nothing personal."

BOOM!

The black Hawk blew into pieces. Harding looked back at the Captain. He was on the ground; he had been killed by one of the blades.  
Chit.  
He looked around for any survivors, but he was out of luck…

PRIOR TO THE FORMATION of the Office Of Strategic Services, US intelligence had no control, and was run on an ad-hoc basis by the Navy, Treasury, and war. The OSS was started by a military order from Franklin Roosevelt on the thirteenth of July in 1942. The main objective was to collect information from the enemy.  
However, President Truman demanded the OSS after the Second World War. It was separated into two different departments. That was the transformation to the CIA.  
Volker had learned her history while reading a WEB Griffin on the five o'clock flight to Washington, DC.  
She had flown in first class, along side with her assistant, Sam Weston.  
Weston, a 'sensitive' man who consisted of only one thing: his job. When he was growing up as a kid, he'd read the Bourne novels, and recently watched the films. Now he wants to be Jason Bourne. It was a childish thought, but he knew. He had been working for Volker for a few years now since she'd been promoted.  
Volker set down her book and set her head back. She sighed, that made Sam look back at her.  
"You OK?" he asked in his peculiar voice.  
Their eyes met, "I'm fine, just tired, that's all."  
"Why don't you get some rest. I take care of the last of the paper work."  
In her head, she yelled in laughter: HOMO! She smiled.  
"Its alright. I'll do it, you watch your movie."  
"You sure you don't want to watch MAMMA MIA?"  
Volker chuckled.  
"No…Sam," she picked her book back up, "I'm sure."

**WASHINGTON DC  
OVAL OFFICE, WEST WING  
O2:00 HOURS**

President David Shore looked up at the replacement Deputy Director of CI.  
"Can I help you?"  
"Nah. You can't…"  
Suddenly the POTUS lent onto his desk. John Mel borne smiled grimly and walked out of the room.  
A few minutes later, Secretary of State, Emerson Gates walked into the Oval office while glancing at a stack of papers she was holding.  
Gates finally looked at Shore, "David? David," she cried.  
"HELP! HELP!"  
The President's assistant dialled the number for his doctor.

JAMES HARDING STOOD in pure fear. Blood and guts, it would appear so.  
Where was he? The man attempted to think of his name, but nothing came.

He had to get to a doctor. Maybe there was a radio in the helicopter. No, it wasn't worth entering flaming debris. The amnesic man rubbed his scalp and felt liquid on his hand. Blood.

Now he really needed to get to a medical professional. He had to look for a sign that would tell him where he was. He glanced back at the helicopter. On the left side, it read in bold letters:  
BAGHDAD MILITARY BASE, US MARINES CORP.

The nameless man cursed loudly into the dark skies of the near border. He couldn't have been in Baghdad right now. Impossible, military forces could have rescued him by now.  
He had to have landed in Karbala. A copter couldn't have traveled that for before stopping for oil.

**CIA HEADQUARTERS  
LANGLEY, VIRGINIA**

The covert operative was lead by the assistant director of CI.  
Jason Levy entered the operations' room, seeing CTU director, Jack Benson, John Mel Borne, and Vice President Charles Penn.  
"Evening, Jason. Heard you were found by a couple of Navy men," Borne thought out loud. The notion of a covert op being found by a couple of drunken Navy men on leave. It was clearly unacceptable behavior coming from one of the highest agents in CTU.  
"I apologize, sir. But I' am…"  
Penn cut in, "we don't ****ing care, agent Levy. Look, the POTUS had been shot, and killed."  
"By who?"  
"We don't know yet. But we think it's connected to CIA Agent James Harding. He was recently being transferred in a Black Hawk helicopter when the copter was shot down. When we found the copter, he wasn't there. But it seemed he'd survived. There was a long trail of blood from his cranium, or so the medical examiner said. A severe brain injury has been declared, although he believes that Harding may have amnesia.

"WHO AM I?"  
James Harding walked alone in the never-ending desert. The amnesiac man stopped in his tracks and inhaled a lung full of dirt and dust.  
Harding had searched for anything in his clothes that give him an idea of who he was. Or whom he worked for. The Navy? Marines? Air Force?  
"****," Harding thought out loud. Then he screamed it again. It was no use talking to himself in the world's largest desert. Or what he thought it was.


	2. Identity

**_ROBERT LUDLUM'S_**

**THE** **BOURNE OBJECTIVE**

**One:**

**_Identity_**

PRIOR TO THE FORMATION of the Office Of Strategic Services, US intelligence had no control, and was run on an ad-hoc basis by the Navy, Treasury, and war. The OSS was started by a military order from Franklin Roosevelt on the thirteenth of July in 1942. The main objective was to collect information from the enemy.  
However, President Truman demanded the OSS after the Second World War. It was separated into two different departments. That was the transformation to the CIA.  
Volker had learned her history while reading a WEB Griffin on the five o'clock flight to Washington, DC.  
She had flown in first class, along side with her assistant, Sam Weston.  
Weston, a 'sensitive' man who consisted of only one thing: his job. When he was growing up as a kid, he'd read the Bourne novels, and recently watched the films. Now he wants to be Jason Bourne. It was a childish thought, but he knew. He had been working for Volker for a few years now since she'd been promoted.  
Volker set down her book and set her head back. She sighed, that made Sam look back at her.  
"You OK?" he asked in his peculiar voice.  
Their eyes met, "I'm fine, just tired, that's all."  
"Why don't you get some rest. I take care of the last of the paper work."  
In her head, she yelled in laughter: HOMO! She smiled.  
"Its alright. I'll do it, you watch your movie."  
"You sure you don't want to watch MAMMA MIA?"  
Volker chuckled.  
"No…Sam," she picked her book back up, "I'm sure."

WASHINGTON DC  
OVAL OFFICE, WEST WING  
O2:00 HOURS

President David Shore looked up at the replacement Deputy Director of CI.  
"Can I help you?"  
"Nah. You can't…"  
Suddenly the POTUS lent onto his desk. John Mel borne smiled grimly and walked out of the room.  
A few minutes later, Secretary of State, Emerson Gates walked into the Oval office while glancing at a stack of papers she was holding.  
Gates finally looked at Shore, "David? David," she cried.  
"HELP! HELP!"  
The President's assistant dialled the number for his doctor.

JAMES HARDING STOOD in pure fear. Blood and guts, it would appear so.  
Where was he? The man attempted to think of his name, but nothing came.

He had to get to a doctor. Maybe there was a radio in the helicopter. No, it wasn't worth entering flaming debris. The amnesic man rubbed his scalp and felt liquid on his hand. Blood.

Now he really needed to get to a medical professional. He had to look for a sign that would tell him where he was. He glanced back at the helicopter. On the left side, it read in bold letters:  
BAGHDAD MILITARY BASE, US MARINES CORP.

The nameless man cursed loudly into the dark skies of the near border. He couldn't have been in Baghdad right now. Impossible, military forces could have rescued him by now.  
He had to have landed in Karbala. A copter couldn't have traveled that for before stopping for oil.

CIA HEADQUARTERS  
LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

The covert operative was lead by the assistant director of CI.  
Jason Levy entered the operations' room, seeing CTU director, Jack Benson, John Mel Borne, and Vice President Charles Penn.  
"Evening, Jason. Heard you were found by a couple of Navy men," Borne thought out loud. The notion of a covert op being found by a couple of drunken Navy men on leave. It was clearly unacceptable behavior coming from one of the highest agents in CTU.  
"I apologize, sir. But I' am…"  
Penn cut in, "we don't ****ing care, agent Levy. Look, the POTUS had been shot, and killed."  
"By who?"  
"We don't know yet. But we think it's connected to CIA Agent James Harding. He was recently being transferred in a Black Hawk helicopter when the copter was shot down. When we found the copter, he wasn't there. But it seemed he'd survived. There was a long trail of blood from his cranium, or so the medical examiner said. A severe brain injury has been declared, although he believes that Harding may have amnesia.

"WHO AM I?"  
James Harding walked alone in the never-ending desert. The amnesiac man stopped in his tracks and inhaled a lung full of dirt and dust.  
Harding had searched for anything in his clothes that give him an idea of who he was. Or whom he worked for. The Navy? Marines? Air Force?  
"****," Harding thought out loud. Then he screamed it again. It was no use talking to himself in the world's largest desert. Or what he thought it was.

NORTHERN FRONT,  
IRAQ

The Smokeheart moved quick and swiftly across the dry plains.  
Robert Scandium sat in the passenger's seat of the Humvee. Surrounded by six USMC soldiers gripping M16s. Scandium felt overwhelmed, being fed to the fiery sun. The vast desert was irritated to his skin. The chief of the Marines had given Captain Russ Graser orders. The Humvee was headed towards the military base in Baghdad.  
Scandium casually lit a cigarette after receiving a nod from the Captain. Robert took a long drag on his smoke. He needed a cigarette badly. He had waited several hours, at the airport, the taxi ride to the military border.

THE MORNING SKY above him had transformed from its twilight aura of beige and purple, to a clear, cloudless sapphire. Benson walked about the streets of New York City. The air was precisely 38 degrees Fahrenheit. The cars and countless bicycles were overwhelming. The director of the counter-terrorism unit didn't usually walk to the Central Intelligence's New York Headquarters, however, he did need the exercise.

EDGAR HOOVER FBI BUILDING  
WASHINGTON, DC

MAX HIX WALKED through the lobby of the Edgar Hoover Building, he quickly signed in and took the elevator to floor six: CTU section.  
Jane Delran glanced back as the director of the FBI entered the counter-terrorism section.  
"Miss Delran?"  
Jane was reluctant to answer.  
"Yes."  
The director walked over to her cubical as she turned around.  
"Jane, I need to ask you a favor. I need you to get me any info on the helicopter attack on the border of Iraq."  
"Yes, sir."

KOREA  
50 MILES SOUTH OF DMZ

JACK MANNING walked down the rotted pier, eyeing the filth and stench of the waters.  
Jack glanced at his watch.  
03:00:47.  
The Diamond would arrive soon. Jack took this time to get rid of any photos or information that the foreign government could use for leverage in case he was captured. He reached his back pocket and found his wallet. He slowly opened it. There was a photo was him and his family, he looked away and used his lighter to burn the picture. When he would get back, he'd get some new copies.  
The Diamond slid through the dark and green waters, the small stealth boat was black, gleamed, blending it in with the sea. The Captain of the boat, Chang, was an Asian Central Intelligence agent. Recruited in Hong Kong. With a Corona in his right hand, he signaled Manning to come aboard with his left.

CTU HEADQUARTERS,  
LOS ANGELES  
CALIFORNIA

BENSON TOOK ONE LAST drag on his cigar before putting it out.  
The covert-op stood in front of the director of counter-terrorism. However, most CTU agents would have been scared shitless compared to former NCIS agents. Or even Army men. It didn't matter, Levy thought.  
Benson handed Levy a file folder containing need-to-know counter Intel. Jason opened the folder and found a blacked-out document. It was like watching a movie with plenty of swear words on TV.  
What the hell, Jason thought.  
"I realize that every five or six words it is blacked-out, but I've managed to get some important photos from Operation Scandium.  
Scandium? Levy asked out loud.  
"Indeed, Jason. Last week, an agent as you are aware, went missing," Benson aimed his index finger at him, "and it's your job to find him."  
As Benson set his hand down to light another cigar, Levy made his response quick and swift.  
"I would need a partner, sir."  
"For what?"  
"A sense of security, sir. As I recall, the black hawk was shot down by terrorists."  
"You're right, I'll assign Matlock for the job."  
Levy nodded and left Benson's office as the cigar smoke hit his nostrils.

JOSS KHARDI watched director Benson as he passed him on the way to his office.

Khardi slowly stood up, stretched his arms out signalling the man across from him to proceed. Ali Horn and Khardi both went to the elevator and pressed for floor 1.

AHMED SAMIR sat outside in his unmarked van approximately two blocks away from the Edgar Hoover building.


	3. Diamond

**_ROBERT LUDLUM'S_**

**THE** **BOURNE OBJECTIVE**

**Three:**

**_Diamond_**

Joss Khardi watched director Benson as he passed him on the way to his office.

Khardi slowly stood up, stretched his arms out signalling the man across from him to proceed. Ali Horn and Khardi both went to the elevator and pressed for floor 1.

Ahmed Samir sat outside in his unmarked van approximately two blocks away from the Edgar Hoover building.

_This Dan Cornwall reporting for CNN. I'm on site with New York Times writer, Alex Bernstein. Alex, what's your opinion on the new President, Barack Obama? _

_Well, Dan, so far over 75% of Americans believed that he would become the President we've all be waiting for. But I have a different opinion. Since he's closed GITMO, two terrorists have attacked and killed seventeen United States sailors. On my side, that's not the best action for their trials._

5:29:56.

5:29:57.

_All right, you've heard the story from Alex Bernstein, author of The Number, a non-fiction piece, dealing with the current stock market…he's currently…_

5:29:59.

5:30:00.

**BOOM!**

_Good evening. this is Katie Curic reporting for NBC. I'm here at the studio with former political advisor of the Bush administration, Lehroy Jorgenson.  
What do think about our new President?  
Well, Obama talks about how the Republicans who didn't support his stimulus package are the same people who allowed Bush to rack up a $1 trillion deficit - well I want to ask Obama if he thinks that this $780 Billion+ stimulus package is going to add to the deficit or not?  
_

6:59:59  
7:00:00

ROBERT SCANDIUM'S FACE WAS laced with fear. The stranger pointed his silenced weapon through the prison bars of his cell in Iraq.  
"Where is it?" said the ghostly figure.  
The albino man grinned gruesomely as Scandium dragged himself backwards toward the back of the cell.  
"Where is it," the ghost was raising his voice now.  
"Please. Just leave me." Robert sounded desperate now.  
"Tell me where it is, and I'll leave."  
"But I told you already."  
"Your lying." The man said as Robert stood up.  
Scandium felt a surge of adrenaline pass through him.  
"Its in locker 98632, the code is 13-39-13."  
"Thank you."  
The ghost pulled the trigger, letting out a phut phut.  
The man left the prison as he stepped into his Cadillac.

"Evening, I'm Tom Avon reporting for K-2 news from Seattle Washington. I here with economics graduate Hal Grenadian, what do you think of Obama?"

" did not pardon anyone, nor did he let anyone free. The charges were temporarily dropped because Gitmo is closing down; the alleged terrorist can be charged again when he's moved to another place.

2. The stock market has been tanking since last September, that's not Obama's fault. The current crisis can be traced back to the housing bubble in 2005/2006.

3. Gitmo was blight on US foreign policy to begin with. Many of the inmates there were people who were indiscriminately rounded up or handed to us by Iraqi and Afghan gangsters who simply wanted people out of the way."

.

However, advisor from Obama administration cut in:

"Not a good enough reason to close a perfectly functioning base. Nor are a few isolated torture incidents. I dont think it is wrong to torture people using water methods, especially if they are holding valuable information, that has to do with our National Security."

Hal had a quick reply, "A perfectly functioning Orwellian base where people are convicted without due process. It sets a bad precedent. Even Alberto Gonzalez went around saying that Americans don't have a right to habeas corpus."

Even Avon was surprised at the quickness of his answer.

Avon continued questioning the two.

"What about the issue on terrorism?"

Hal was the first to reply, "Terrorists occur because someone who doesn't like freedom and things that a Democratic Republic such as the USofA stand for...so they get people to believe that killing innocent lives for a higher cause is the right thing to do

Look at the 1993 WTC bombings, we weren't in the Middle East  
Look at the bombing of the USS Cole which was near Yemen  
Look at the 9/11 attacks

These attacks happened cause they don't like us...and I would rather be staying in the middle east trying to help rebuild a country than being scared to death cause we think that if we don't do anything to help prevent attacks no one will attack us..."

9:00:00

"Good morning, I'm John Hayes reporting for Tom Avon. It was just two hours ago that a previously unknown terrorist group has killed the VP and the executive judges, lead by former Intelligence analyst, Robert Scandium. The group is called "Smokeheart". The name came from Scandium's nickname in juvenile detention. The group has also bombed Los Angeles and New York City."

The co-anchor, Lisa Givens continued, "in other news, undercover CIA Agent in Afghanistan was found nearly dead, by request, the agent's name was revealed. However, the investigators told us that he had had a heat stroke. He has recovered from his amnesia and has been safely returned to his home…"

The ghost entered Smokeheart headquarters in east Zurich. Morgan Cheynein made his speech quick and effective.

"Robert Scandium was found dead in his prison cell. He had committed suicide and left a note." Cheynein pulled out a plank piece of a notebook paper.

"I Robert Scandium will kill myself tomorrow at midnight, using a gun from a guard I will steal. I want my cousin, Morgan Cheynein, to lead Smokeheart."


End file.
